


Todd is a Disney Princess

by njw



Series: Jaytim Week Prompt Oneshots and Stories [10]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alfred is Prepared, Crack Treated Seriously, Damian's Unique Worldview, Disney Princess Jason Todd, Fairy Tale Elements, Humor, JayTim Week 2020, JayTimWeek, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: Damian blinks in shock. Todd spontaneously bursts into song. Animals apparently adore him. He also spends a sizable portion of his time saving people. One by one, realizations tumble into place like dominoes. Todd was once taken from them by a wicked monster, which sent his father into a terrible period of mourning for years. Almost like a curse upon their family…Perhaps… Todd has yet to be truly saved? The state of his relationship with the family, and Damian’s father in particular, does seem to leave much to be desired.Wide-eyed, Damian continues to stare after them for a long while, struck speechless by the realization—Todd is a Disney princess.Damian has alotof work to do.*For thetumblr Jaytim Week 2020day two Fairy Tales/Disney Princess | Book Inspired prompt.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Jaytim Week Prompt Oneshots and Stories [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1356295
Comments: 327
Kudos: 923
Collections: JayTimWeek





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [托德是个迪斯尼公主 Todd is a Disney Princess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29653446) by [tiktiktiktiktam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiktiktiktiktam/pseuds/tiktiktiktiktam)



> Enormous thank you to Salazarastark, Spazzterror, and Strawberryjei for the wonderful beta!

Grayson turns the page and smiles before beginning to read at the point where they left off last night. “After many long and hopeless years had passed, a fine prince came to the accursed kingdom. He had heard the tale of the beautiful princess who lay sleeping for a hundred years in the forgotten castle surrounded by the briar-hedge. He also heard tell of her father and servants, who were all likewise bound by dark magic. All of them lay in a sleep so still and silent as to be akin to death.”

Damian lies in bed and allows the sound of Grayson’s soft, smooth voice to roll over him. Sleep tugs at him even as he frowns at the direction the story appears to be taking. Why would the prince bother to travel to a kingdom so obviously rife with witchcraft and danger? Surely there were more profitable ventures he could have engaged in for the benefit of his own kingdom.

“And the prince valiantly entered the castle, with no thought to his own safety or concern for the many grievous wounds he received as he fought his way through the briar-hedge. By his bravery and love he lifted the spell—waking the kingdom to life again, and saving the princess from her terrible fate with true love’s kiss.”

Damian scowls, rousing slightly at the sheer stupidity of the story. As Grayson inhales, his mouth opening to continue perpetrating this travesty, Damian finally snaps. “Grayson, I must demand that you cease this at once! Surely there are superior books, if you must insist on these bedtime stories. _The Art of War_ , perhaps, or _The Prince.”_

There must be something else that would be both useful and soporific. At this point, Damian would prefer to listen to the _dictionary_ read aloud over the ridiculous stories his oldest brother feels the need to inflict upon him.

“Aw, c’mon, Dami, we’re almost at the end. Don’t you want to find out what happens next?” Grayson smiles, looking absurdly hopeful.

Scoffing, Damian shakes his head. “I have no interest in the outcome of this preposterous tale. The princess is a pathetic fool—only a clumsy idiot would stab herself on a common household implement! Further, she should have accosted the old woman in the tower room and demanded her reasons for being within the castle in the first place, not naively trusted an obviously dubious intruder. Clearly, her training or her intelligence was inexcusably lacking. Likely both.”

Damian sits up, pushing the covers back so he can gesture for emphasis. “Worse, the prince is clearly incompetent, and possibly some manner of halfwit. How else could one account for his demonstrable idiocy in pursuing a clearly useless, magically accursed princess, to the near certain detriment of his own kingdom and person? He should never have entered the briar-hedge on such a flimsy pretext.”

He scoffs. “Their children, should either of them have the wit to figure out how to actually engender any—which I highly doubt—will likely be morons. Such pathetic offspring would be bound to blunder into another such trap the moment they learned to walk, thus perpetuating the cycle of blithering dunderheads staggering straight to their own doom.” Scowling, Damian glares at his brother. “Grayson, these lessons are far beneath me. What purpose could these ridiculous _bedtime stories_ possibly serve?”

Grayson stares at him, arrested with his mouth hanging open in a ridiculous manner. “Uh…” He blinks somewhat helplessly, then visibly rallies. “You’re missing the point, Little D! First of all, these stories are meant to be fun. You haven’t had enough fun in your life.” The corners of his mouth tilt down.

The implication that Grayson considers him to be a child is unmistakable, and highly offensive. Damian narrows his eyes and inhales deeply before letting loose. _“Fun_ is neither constructive nor useful in my training and education. I am not a child to be pandered to and—”

Shaking his head apologetically, Grayson quickly soothes his ruffled feathers. “No, I know. You’re highly intelligent and skilled far beyond your age.” For some reason, he looks even sadder, as though Damian’s achievements are somehow undesirable.

Ridiculous. Damian’s prowess and success should be a point of pride for him. Perhaps he is experiencing indigestion. Damian makes a mental note to direct Pennyworth to prepare a cleansing tea for him later.

“Anyway.” Grayson smiles and leans forward to ruffle Damian’s hair. The man then pulls back quickly and expertly in a practiced move to avoid any reflexive snapping.

Damian rolls his eyes. It has been _weeks_ since he bit anyone. And that was merely Drake, who hardly counts.

“These stories are important. They’re something you missed out on growing up. I just want to give you a chance to have some of the things other kids take for granted.”

“Cultural indoctrination,” Damian muses, leaning back on the pillows piled against the headboard and steepling his fingers on his chest. “So, you believe these stories to be important to my integration with civilian school children?” He narrows his eyes in a considering manner. If his civilian cover requires a thorough knowledge of these puerile tales, then that changes things. It’s annoying, but he’s done worse for less benefit.

Grayson’s brows rise marginally and he bites back a smile. “Uh, yeah, you could think of it that way. Also, these stories all have some good lessons hidden away in them. I think it could be good for you to try to figure out what those lessons are.”

Damian freezes, suddenly alert. He forces himself not to tense and to continue breathing normally. So, this is a test. Having spent his entire life up until the age of ten in the less than tender care of his grandfather and mother, he knows very well the importance of passing every test set before him.

Now, what, precisely, does Grayson intend for him to glean from this story?

As Grayson’s smooth, deep voice resumes reading the deceptively idiotic story, Damian focuses his entire attention and listens as though his life depends upon it. While he knows his father and brother would never subject him to the types of punishment for failure as his previous caretakers, he wants to make them proud.

He _will_ pass this test.

The next morning, Damian sits at the breakfast table consuming a plate of mixed fruit, nuts, and plain toast. He’s still puzzling over what lessons could possibly be taken from the foolish story of a princess, a wicked witch, and an annoyingly noble prince. It clearly can’t be an example of what to do—none of the characters’ actions are at all deserving of emulation.

Perhaps it is meant to be an object lesson of what _not_ to do? However, in that case, it would be quite difficult to demonstrate he has absorbed said lesson. He would have to wait until a home intruder or enchanted maiden appeared in his path in order to showcase his admirable ability to apprehend said intruder and ignore said maiden.

As he ruminates, Todd barges into the room, stomping through the kitchen and whistling cheerfully as he gathers what appears to be ingredients for an omelette.

Damian scowls. “What are you doing here, Todd?” The family black sheep rarely appears in the Bat Cave, let alone upstairs in Wayne Manor. The only times he dares show his face here are when—Damian’s brows rise in realization. “Is Father out of town?”

“Yep.” Todd flashes him an insouciant grin. “For a couple of days. There’s a little heat on Red Hood right now, and I’m pretty sure a few of my safe houses are compromised, so I’m stayin’ here while Daddy Bats is away.” He winks, pulls a jug of orange juice out of the refrigerator and opens it, then raises it directly to his mouth before Damian’s scandalized gaze.

Appalling.

A throat being pointedly cleared draws their attention over to the doorway, where Pennyworth stands, looking entirely unamused. “Master Jason, really.”

Todd lowers the jug quickly, the back of his neck turning red as he unsuccessfully attempts to hide the purloined jug behind his back. “Aw, shi—uh, I mean, shoot. I was just giving the squirt a hard time.”

Pennyworth raises a minatory eyebrow at him, confiscating the orange juice and pouring Todd a glass before expertly taking over the omelette preparations. “Please see that it does not happen again. I know very well that you were taught better than that.”

“Sorry, Alfie.”

“It is quite all right, Master Jason. And may I say—” Pennyworth clears his throat, looking momentarily overcome before gathering his composure again. “It is good to have you here, my dear boy.”

The two fall into quiet conversation, and Damian resumes puzzling over the challenge Grayson set for him. Perhaps it isn’t specific to the story they were reading last night. It is possible Grayson intends for him to take into account the various movies he has been subjecting him to, as well. In that case, the princesses have additional qualities he may need to consider.

As a group, they tend to enjoy singing. Animals are attracted to them. They are deeply sympathetic and make a habit of saving people.

Damian glowers. This isn’t getting him anywhere. None of those are characteristics of anyone he’s ever met, much less someone he spends time with around here—

Softly sung words draw his attention back to the present, and he looks across the table in surprise. “Mama, just killed a man…” The quiet song dissolves into humming for a moment, and Damian realizes Pennyworth has left the room and Todd is now seated across from him. The man is _singing,_ to the same tune he was whistling when he entered the room.

Todd continues, apparently unaware of his audience. “Put a gun against his head—pulled my trigger, now he’s dead…” He shoves a large forkful of eggs into his mouth and continues humming undeterred even as he chews his food. After a moment, he notices Damian staring and grins, displaying fragments of half-masticated eggs. “What, you don’t like Queen?”

Disgusting.

No. There is simply no way _Todd_ is intended to be the princess in this scenario, his apparent tendency to spontaneously burst into song aside. Although his puzzling reference to some unknown _queen_ is another point in favor of that troubling hypothesis.

Todd clears his plate, then rises to his feet. “Okay, I’m off. See ya around, brat.” He ambles away, leaving Damian to his thoughts.

He watches as Todd wanders toward the hall, resuming his song about violence and mayhem after a moment. Could it be…? No, impossible! Damian shakes his head. Just then, Titus trots past him through the kitchen, faithfully following Todd. Alfred the cat appears a moment later, darting after them.

Damian blinks in shock. Todd spontaneously bursts into song. Animals apparently adore him. He also spends a sizable portion of his time saving people. One by one, realizations tumble into place like dominoes. Todd was once taken from them by a wicked monster, which sent his father into a terrible period of mourning for years. Almost like a curse upon their family…

Perhaps… Todd has yet to be truly saved? The state of his relationship with the family, and Damian’s father in particular, does seem to leave much to be desired.

Wide-eyed, Damian continues to stare after them for a long while, struck speechless by the realization—Todd is a Disney princess.

Damian has a _lot_ of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, reading a bedtime story to Damian:** “Yay, I love reading beloved fairy tales to my baby bro!”  
>  **Damian, reading way too much into this:** “I must carve the visceral lesson from the story and consume its metaphorically beating heart lest I fail to uphold my father and favored brother’s expectations”  
>  **Dick, baffled but happy that Damian seems interested in the story:** “That’s… good???” *Shrugs, turns the page and continues reading*  
>  **Damian, applying himself wholly to solving this mystery:** *Spots Jason singing murderous ballads, charming animals, and performing household drudgery in classic Disney princess manner* “Egads! Todd was the princess all along!”  
>  **Jason, baffled:** “The fuck? Wait, did you just call me making my own goddamn omelette household drudgery? Kid, you got some weird ideas about shit—”  
>  **Damian, smiling and whispering:** “Yes, Todd was the princess all along”


	2. Chapter 2

Jason eyes Damian with a growing sense of suspicion and mistrust. The kid is staring at him again. He edges slightly to the right, hoping the brat’s just looking into space, lost in thought. No dice. Those beady little eyes track his every movement. It’s uncomfortably reminiscent of a starving cat watching a particularly succulent mouse.

He shivers, trying not to feel so unnerved. Maybe if he starts up a conversation, this whole situation won’t feel so tense. “So… What have you been up to lately?”

Damian merely continues to stare at him in increasingly awkward silence. It’s somehow both awkward as fuck and weirdly threatening.

The kid’s only eleven—this shouldn’t be so disturbing. Then again, if Damian actually wanted to assassinate someone and hide the body, he would absolutely be able to pull it off. Right now, it would be easy as hell to just pin the blame on the gangsters who are after Red Hood and have half his goddamn safe houses staked out or wired to blow. His train of thought breaks off as it occurs to him that murdering him and sticking the blame on the gangs is probably exactly what the little gremlin is planning to do.

Shit.

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off the kid as he backs slowly out of the den. Turning around would be like just asking for a knife in the kidney. Once he makes it to the hallway, he relaxes minutely but doesn’t fully let down his guard. Damian has been known to spend time in the ventilation ducts and was raised by actual assassins. If he wants someone dead, he’s got a hell of a lot of resources to draw on to make it happen.

There’s only one thing to do.

Swallowing, he sets out in search of the only person who might, possibly, have a snowball’s chance in hell at understanding whatever Jason did to offend the little monster this time. He frowns, wondering what the fuck it could even be. He hasn’t done anything shitty to the family in over six months—ever since the Pit’s influence finally started wearing thin and he could see the damage he was doing. Both to his erstwhile family, and to himself.

If the kid was ever going to come after him for being a bastard, it should’ve been back then when he was at his worst, not now when he’s _this_ close to being accepted again, or at least tolerated.

He pokes his head into the living room, hoping he’ll find Dick there watching yet another of his ridiculous romantic comedies. Instead, Cass blinks at him sleepily from her position sprawled on the couch with her feet in Steph’s lap. Steph appears to be busily painting her toenails black to match her nails. There are sparkles in the paint.

“Hey there,” Steph says, flashing him a bright grin before turning back to her task. Her own nails are, of course, a vivid eggplant hue. Also with sparkles.

“Lookin’ good,” he says from the doorway. He shifts his weight, still feeling slightly awkward interacting with everyone so casually when he was at their throats less than a year ago.

Cass lifts her head and looks at him, her dark gaze knowing. “Thanks,” she says simply, smiling sweetly. He waves at her as he turns to head back down the hall to the next location on his list, feeling oddly uplifted by the encounter.

She was the first one to figure out when he stopped killing. Well, it’s probably a tossup between her, Barbara, and Tim. But Cass was the one to come to him and tell him to his face he was doing good, and to keep trying.

Tim was the second. He showed up in one of Red Hood’s safe houses with a data drive and a pizza, ready to talk about a couple of their cases he’d realized were overlapping. Babs just fucking hacked his comm one day and harrangued him until he agreed to stop by the Clocktower and talk to her. Between the three of them, they had him working with the rest of the Bats almost before he—or the others, probably—even knew what was happening.

Jason reaches the kitchen and pokes his head in, hoping to find Dick or at least Alfred. One of the biggest things he’s missed about living in the Manor is Alfred’s calm presence, and of course, his never-ending supply of perfectly made tea and cookies.

The only person in there is Tim, who is standing in front of the coffee pot watching the dark, aromatic fluid slowly fill the carafe, drop by drop.

“Hey there, Baby Bird—you seen Dickhead yet today?”

“Hng,” Tim says, clearly still not entirely awake. He’s so fucking cute when he’s sleepy. Actually, he’s cute all the time, not that Jason’s ever going to let anyone know he thinks that. His relationship with his replacement is complicated enough without adding _that_ to the mix.

Jason chuckles, a wave of fondness stirring at seeing how adorably helpless the younger man is first thing in the morning. Not that it’s actually morning—it’s well past noon. Then again, considering how often he’s swung by the Nest in the small hours and caught Tim still awake and poring over case files for the Bats or financial reports for Wayne Enterprises, he probably shouldn’t be surprised.

“What are you even doing here?” He nudges Tim to the side with his hip, ignoring his soft grumbles. Taking pity on him, he reaches over his head to pull down a mug and fill it up for him.

Tim greedily snags the full mug from his hands, sipping from it before sighing and closing his eyes in apparent bliss. “Thanks, Jay.” His cheeks are flushed from the heat, and when he opens his eyes he looks so fucking pretty and languid it makes Jason’s face go hot with want. “Had to come by the Cave after patrol last night. Alfred frowned at me until I agreed to stay over.”

Seems legit. It’s damn hard to say no to Alfred.

Turning away, Jason busies himself at the stove. “Omelette?” He knows exactly how Tim likes them, so he’s pulling out egg whites and veggies from the fridge before the other man even replies.

“Yeah, sure. Uh, thanks.” Tim ambles over to the counter and hops up to perch on it, sipping his coffee every so often. Apparently, he’s perfectly content just to watch Jason cook him breakfast.

Jason pauses after flipping the omelette, considering that. Why the hell is he making Tim breakfast, anyway? He should at least make him work for it. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tim’s head nod forward slightly before he visibly catches himself, jerking upright and then knocking back the rest of his coffee in one go.

He’s so damn cute and ridiculous. Jason suppresses a smile as he turns off the stove and slides the omelette onto a plate. “Hey you go, Timbo. Try not to fall asleep before you finish eating it.”

“I owe you one,” Tim says, smiling up at him before turning his attention to his free breakfast. His head bobs forward again before he straightens, blinking hard.

“Sure, that’s fine. But seriously, get more sleep.” Jason snorts, shaking his head, then refills Tim’s coffee before he goes. He’ll have to stop by the Nest more often this week and make sure the ridiculous workaholic is taking care of himself.

As he resumes his search for Dick, still keeping a wary eye out for a certain creepy child-assassin, he ponders how he’ll collect on that favor. He doesn’t need it for help with cases, that’s for damn sure—Tim gives him that free of charge, whenever he asks. Even sometimes when he doesn’t. Little stalker.

He smiles fondly. Maybe he can convince Tim to have dinner with him soon, use the favor that way. It might be nice to just hang out for once, without the pressure of their vigilante work driving the interaction.

Jason blinks out of his musings when he wanders into the Bat Cave and realizes he’s found what he’s looking for. He pauses at the foot of the stairs into the Cave, looking up. Overhead, Dick Grayson arches and twists merrily through one of his gravity-defying routines, using the aerial equipment Bruce installed for him years ago.

It’s still a trip and a half to see Dick in action, even knowing him well and having trained with him for years. Jason watches his routine until he comes to a halt at one of the platforms, stretches his shoulders, and then begins to climb down. He skips the last couple of rungs and is in the process of hopping off the ladder when Jason calls out to him. He chooses his moment carefully. “Yo, Dickie!” He grins as Dick startles and falls on his ass. That’s always hilarious.

“Dang it, Jay, I’ve told you to quit doing that!” Dick grumbles as he gets to his feet, but he’s smiling, clearly happy to see him around the Cave. “What’s up?”

Jason makes a face, remembering his purpose in seeking him out. “Uh, so. I’ve kinda got a problem.” He resists the urge to fidget, feeling awkward. After all, Damian’s just a kid. He should be able to handle this on his own.

Dick straightens, his expression going serious as his gaze flits over Jason in an obvious injury check. “Did the gangsters make a move? Are you okay?”

He shakes his head, swallowing down the stupid lump that forms in his throat at his big brother’s blatant concern. “Nothing like that.” Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to calm the fuck down. “It’s the kid.”

“Tim?” Dick’s concerned frown deepens. “Jason, I know you guys have a bad history, but if you’d just give him a _chance,_ you’d see he’s—”

“What? No, Timbo’s fine. He and I talked things out over pancakes forever ago—we’re okay now. Naw, I’m talkin’ about the _other_ kid.”

Looking a hilarious mixture of relieved and anxious, Dick raises an eyebrow. “Damian? Is this about you feeding his animals bacon every time you’re here? I told you he’s a vegan and he’d be mad about that—he always makes sure to buy them organic, nutritionally balanced food exactly suited to their dietary needs. While that obviously includes meat-based protein, he would _not_ appreciate you feeding them something as unhealthy as bacon.”

Jason snorts. “No, he still doesn’t know I’ve been feeding them. It’s not always meat, anyway. I just carry treats in my pocket most of the time in case I run into any strays on patrol. Poor little bastards just look so hungry every time I see ‘em.” He sees Dick’s face break into a delighted grin at his revelation and hurries on before the other man decides to say something embarrassing, or god forbid, goes in for a hug. “No, but I’m pretty sure the Bat brat’s legit planning to kill me. Seems like every time I turn around he’s standing there, just _looking_ at me with those beady little eyes.”

Dick raises his eyebrows, looking even more concerned. Fuck, Jason had been hoping his brother would dismiss his worries immediately. The fact that he’s apparently taking this so seriously—well, it’s not good.

“Jay,” Dick says urgently, his gaze flitting over Jason again in what’s almost certainly a quick check to verify he isn’t dying again from a painless stab wound or poison, “quick, has he been paying particular attention to your jugular? The major arteries? The delicate attachment point between the base of your skull and your spine?”

Holy shit.

Jason shivers and darts a quick glance over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the little gremlin right behind him, his unnerving stare fixed on that exact point.

There’s no one there. Thank fuck.

Jason considers the question, then shrugs. “Not that I’ve noticed? I mean, he’s usually watching my eyes or just kinda brooding in my general direction. At first I thought he was just staring into space, like, lost in thought or whatever, but when I move his eyes track me.” He shivers, resisting the urge to check over his shoulder again. “It’s fuckin’ unsettling.”

“But no attacks so far? There haven’t been any boobytraps in your locker, shuriken flying at your head as you walk down the hall, suspicious glistening substances on your utensils during mealtimes?”

What the fuck? “Hell, no,” Jason says, horrified. If that’s the kind of thing he has to look forward to, he’s out of here.

To his surprise, Dick’s face clears and he laughs, sounding relieved. “Well then, you’re not on his assassination list. I think maybe he just likes you, Jay. This might be his way of trying to make friends.”

Jesus.

“What if I don’t wanna make friends? That kid is creepy as hell and seems just as likely to stab me in my sleep as hang out and play Mario Kart.” Also, Jason doesn’t want to start waking up to find the heads of his enemies on his doorstep or whatever. He has enough decapitation memories to last a lifetime already, thank you very much Ra’s for the involuntary swim in the crazy Kool-Aid.

Dick rolls his eyes and leans forward to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “The stabbings really aren’t as frequent as people seem to think. They’re not so bad—if he likes you, Dami always aims for the meat and makes the wound really shallow.”

With that bracing, horrifying disclosure, Dick spins on his heel and bounces away, whistling a jaunty tune.

“What the _fuck?”_ Jason mutters, scrubbing at his face.

Whatever. He’ll just keep his guard up for a while, and eventually the brat will lose interest. After all, he’s just a kid—albeit a seriously fucked up one. How bad can this really get?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jason, whining to Dick:** “Damian’s staring at me and it’s creeping me right the fuck out”  
>  **Dick, flipping gracefully down from the ceiling:** “Eh, it’s probably nothing to worry about”  
>  **Jason, relieved:** “Are you sure? I was afraid he was planning to assassinate me”  
>  **Dick, laughing:** “Lol nope, if he were planning to kill you you’d already be dead!”  
>  **Jason, deeply unsettled:** “Uh, thanks I guess. So, why is he staring at me then?”  
>  **Dick, shrugging:** “Maybe he likes you! You’ll know for sure if he starts feeding you trace amounts of poison to strengthen your resistance!”  
>  **Jason:** “Wtf, does he do that to you?”  
>  **Dick, cartwheeling away with a grin:** “It’s cool, you get used to it eventually!”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, bud, do you have a few minutes?” Nightwing gives him a hopeful-looking smile as he drops down to sit beside him, two thermoses in his hands.

Robin shrugs, scooting over slightly to make room on the ledge where he’s been keeping watch on the building opposite. He’s waiting for a planned meetup between two upper echelon gangsters, both of whom are attempting to make an alliance beneath the noses of their respective gang heads. Considering the meeting was meant to occur at least twenty minutes ago, the chances of it happening at all seem increasingly slim. Perhaps the conspirators have been caught and punished, or grown too fearful to dare show their faces.

Either way, it’s been a waste of his night. However, while the stakeout itself has been frustrating and unproductive, the long wait has provided Robin with an excellent opportunity to think about his ongoing test.

He has been observing Todd carefully for the past several days. Everything he’s seen has served to reinforce his initial hypothesis. At this point, he has observed multiple instances of Todd displaying the primary Disney princess traits, including: fighting and conquering evil villains, occasionally bursting into spontaneous song about love and happiness—well, raucous songs about chaos and mayhem, but those are the things which make _Todd_ happy, so the point stands—and attracting animals to do his bidding.

Only last night on patrol, Robin watched, suspicious, as Red Hood glanced furtively from side to side before dropping into an alleyway. When Robin followed, the last thing he expected was to see Red Hood tossing scraps of food to a mewing, yipping swarm of Gotham’s numerous stray cats and dogs. It was a surprisingly touching sight.

A moment later, a drunk staggered into the alley and attempted to attack Red Hood with a broken bottle. That proved to be a costly mistake—the belligerent fool instantly found himself trapped beneath a mound of growling, hissing, scratching strays as the creatures moved to defend their princess.

Father loves Todd deeply and is very protective of him. One might even call Todd the apple of his eye. It hurt him horribly when Todd was stolen from his family by an evil being, and the fact that Todd was returned to them suffering from a terrible curse means that their kingdom—er, family—remains in disarray. Todd refuses to stay in their castle—er, house—when Father is there, visibly causing both of them unhappiness.

Todd even has a prince. Robin is certain of it. He has come to the conclusion that, like any fairytale princess, Todd requires the assistance of a bumbling but well-meaning oaf to assist him in overcoming the remaining traces of his curse. Only then can he take his proper place at his father’s side and mend their fractured family. That, in turn, will allow the Bat and his allies to operate at full strength, which is certainly a laudable goal, well worthy of Robin’s efforts.

There is no other logical conclusion. Grayson must intend for Damian to identify Todd’s ideal suitor and encourage him to press his suit. Once the prince has successfully courted his princess, then the story should follow the pattern of the fairytales and play out to a satisfying and desirable conclusion.

But how to find Todd’s prince?

Robin turns to glance at Nightwing again. His oldest brother is kind and sympathetic. It is likely he wishes Damian to do well on his test. Perhaps he would be willing to give him a hint? If not, it is entirely possible he may be tricked into divulging a clue.

“So…” Nightwing drums his fingers on the ledge, swinging one leg back and forth restlessly. He hands Robin a thermos, which turns out to contain some of Pennyworth’s delicious hot chocolate when he takes a cautious sip. Robin approves. “You’ve been paying attention to Red Hood lately. Anything you care to share?”

Ah. Clearly, he has come to obtain an update from Robin on his progress in identifying and solving the puzzle. Robin straightens, squaring his shoulders, and reports. “Indeed, my observations have been most fruitful. I have nearly completed my study.”

Nightwing pauses, opens his mouth as though to reply, and then pauses again. “Oh,” he finally says. The corner of his mouth lifts in a puzzled-looking smile. Perhaps he was not expecting Robin to progress to this point so rapidly? “That’s good to hear. Wanna let me know what conclusions you came to?”

Robin narrows his eyes, considering. While he is confident in his conclusions thus far, he is by no means certain he has made sufficient progress to impress Nightwing. No, merely identifying the problem is nothing in the grand scheme of things. He must enact a solution in order to achieve any recognition for his efforts.

“I shall inform you once I have finished.” He stares at the window of the building opposite, which remains stubbornly dark. At his side, Nightwing lifts his thermos and takes a swig. “Meanwhile, are you aware of any romantic partners with whom Todd may be involved?” He hesitates, wondering if saying more will divulge too much of the direction of his current efforts. After a moment, he decides it’s worth it if he gains any useful information. “Is he _taken,_ as it were?”

Nightwing chokes, coughing and spraying hot chocolate into the crisp night air as he wheezes and gasps. _“What?”_

Robin rolls his eyes, impatient. “I am asking you whether or not Todd is romantically entangled with anyone at the moment.”

“Oh my god. You’re… Oh, god. So this is why—I thought—it never even _occurred_ to me you might have a cru—” He breaks off, looking horrified.

“If you would be so good as to attempt to complete a sentence, that would be significantly more helpful than this useless sputtering.”

Nightwing falls silent as he shifts to face Robin, an earnest, uncomfortable expression on his face. “Look, Robin…” His voice drips with pity, and Robin’s hackles rise.

Apparently, attempting to ask Nightwing for assistance was a mistake. He clearly does not believe Robin will be able to pull this off. “I do not require your help! I shall figure out the name of Todd’s paramour on my own.”

Nightwing looks alarmed. “Da—uh, Robin, wait. Even if you’re, uh, _interested_ in him _,_ that’s no reason to go attacking anyone—”

What on earth is he talking about? Robin stares at him fixedly for a moment, attempting to puzzle out his meaning. Movement in the building opposite catches his attention, and his entire focus immediately returns to the mission. “Nightwing,” he snaps.

At his side, Nightwing follows his gaze, then rolls smoothly into a crouch. His thermos disappears as he raises a hand to his mask, likely activating the infrared. “Three people. One’s sitting in a chair and not moving—possibly tied up. Weren’t there only supposed to be two guys at this meeting?”

Robin frowns at the sight, having activated his own infrared. “Yes, Adair and Defranco. Perhaps someone attempted to follow them, and they took exception.”

One of the standing figures raises an arm high, clutching something and clearly intending to use it to hit the seated figure, who is stirring slightly, perhaps squirming against restraints.

“Well, it looks like this is about to escalate from stakeout to rescue op.” With those words, Nightwing begins to rise to his feet. He likely intends to break the window with a smoke bomb and then swing through, closely followed by Robin in an action they performed many times during the period of time when Nightwing wore the cowl.

He never makes it.

Instead, he and Robin both stare, gaping, as Red Robin appears out of nowhere, swinging in at an angle on his own grapnel line from the highrise to the east. He bashes through the window feet-first, his bo-staff already in his hands by the time he’s fully within the room.

He leverages his momentum to devastating effect, using one of the gangsters as a crash pad to soften his landing and laying out the other with a few judicious strikes of the staff.

The men are still falling as he sinks to his knees beside the chair, clearly intent on assisting its occupant.

“Robin,” Nightwing murmurs, and launches his grapnel. He swings toward the now gaping window. Robin follows, irritation rising at Red Robin’s intervention in his case. He and Nightwing would have had that handled. There was no reason for him to intervene—

Robin alights within the room and freezes the moment he sees the occupant of the chair.

“Aw, fuck, really? You guys, too? What, you gonna call _everyone_ to come by to see me be humiliated?” Red Hood—lacking his characteristic helmet but at least still wearing his mask—groans in dismay.

Red Robin ignores his bluster and finishes deftly slicing through his bonds. “Anything numb, tingling? Those were really tight.” He begins gently chafing Red Hood’s hands, apparently attempting to restore circulation in the extremities. He surreptitiously nudges something on the ground with his foot, pushing it farther away as Red Hood stares at it, gaze wary.

It’s a crowbar. Robin glares at the gangsters who are currently moaning and stirring faintly on the floor. Most likely, it was a mere coincidence that they planned to assault Red Hood with that particular weapon. Regardless, he is certain Nightwing will be questioning them thoroughly on the matter, just to be sure.

Nightwing steps forward, viciously kicking the offending tool into a distant corner out of Red Hood’s line of sight as he approaches. Red Robin and Robin both glare at it briefly before turning away. Nightwing frowns. “Red, are you okay? Robin and I were on a stakeout when we happened to see these guys had a prisoner. We had no idea it was you.”

Red Robin acknowledges his words with a nod, then turns back to Red Hood. “I was just running my usual patrol when one of your irregulars flagged me down and said they saw some guys shoving your limp body into a van. How’d a pair of schmucks like them even get the drop on you in the first place?”

Red Hood has the grace to blush. “I was investigating the little gang problem I’ve been having with my safe houses. One of these two guys was an informant and said he had some info for me, but I guess he decided to sell me out to a rival gang—the one that hates my guts—instead. I took my helmet off to have a drink with him. Didn’t see him slip anything in there, but if he had an accomplice…”

Robin nods, pieces clicking into place in his mind. “Adair and Defranco must have needed _something_ in order to believe they would have a chance at pulling off their coup. Red Hood would be a considerable feather in their cap.”

“Yeah, whatever. I was workin’ my way loose—was almost free when they pulled out that damn crowbar.” Red Hood scowls. “Froze up for a sec. Uh. I guess…” He blushes and hesitates. A moment later, he looks down and mumbles, “Thanks for the save, Baby Bird,” in the general direction of his boots.

Red Robin smiles, still gently massaging Red Hood’s hands, then pauses. He frowns. “Wait, you said they drugged you, right? Hood, that’s dangerous. I’m taking you back to the Nest. We need to get some labs done and make sure it wasn’t anything serious.” With that pronouncement, he leans forward and smoothly lifts a sputtering, weakly protesting Red Hood in his arms. He staggers slightly before gripping him in a firm princess-carry. It looks incredibly awkward, with Red Hood’s feet nearly dragging on the ground and his broad shoulders hunching to fit in the smaller man’s grasp. Neither of them seems to mind.

Robin’s eyes widen.

As the pair moves past him toward the window, he’s sure he sees a faint blush rising on Red Hood’s cheeks and on the tips of his ears. The man is not protesting anymore—in fact, his arms slip around his rescuer’s shoulders as Red Robin adjusts his hold before swinging out into the night.

“Wow,” Nightwing says, staring after them. “I… did not realize Red Robin was that strong.” He watches for a moment longer, then sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he turns back to eye the faintly stirring criminals critically. “Well, I guess we get to deal with these guys, then.”

Processing the gangsters is simple enough once they locate and open the briefcases the pair apparently brought with them to their meeting. Each briefcase is filled with cash, weapons, and enough drugs to put both of them away for a long time, even in Gotham.

It’s only later, once patrol has finished and he is back in the Bat Cave writing his report, that Damian has an opportunity to consider the ramifications of what happened.

Up until this evening, he had not been certain who, precisely, Todd’s prince charming was. He had considered Grayson himself, Gordon, Brown, even West, briefly, before watching unimpressed as the fool ran headfirst into a wall during battle and successfully knocked himself out for ten seconds—an eternity for a speedster.

None of them met the specifications.

He never seriously considered the possibility that _Drake_ might be Todd’s prince charming. Watching the man rescue him in true fairytale fashion, right down to the obligatory princess-carry, has successfully awakened him to the possibility.

Damian ponders the situation, attempting to keep an open mind. Drake is an aristocrat, with what some simple-minded fools appear to believe is a not-repellent personality. As Red Robin, he might be considered brave, gallant, and kind. Horrifyingly enough, he is even an approximation of _dashing_ on occasion—when in his Timothy Wayne guise, anyway.

The more Damian considers the matter, the more obvious it is.

Drake is clearly Todd’s prince.

Tonight’s events are proof enough. If Drake’s princely qualities were insufficient to convince Damian of the fact, he need only consider the way the pair looked at each other as Drake carried a swooning Todd away from the scene of his kidnapping, moments after tenderly freeing him from his cruel captors.

Well, Damian has watched all the execrable movies Grayson forced on him for his cultural indoctrination, and read the books. He knows there is only one cure for the curse upon Todd which mars his father’s and, through him, their entire family’s happiness.

Todd must receive a kiss from his prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Damian, bored and frustrated on a stakeout:** “Why is it so difficult to figure out the identity of Todd’s prince charming? Surely SOMEONE wishes to kiss him!”  
>  **Jason, kidnapped and about to be beaten with a crowbar:** “Aw, fucknuggets”  
>  **Tim, swooping in to rescue him in suitably dramatic fairytale manner:** “Jay, did they hurt you?”  
>  **Damian, eyeing them with deep suspicion:** “No. No, there’s no way Todd’s prince charming is Drake. He lacks dignity, charm, or any form of accomplishment worthy of a prince. Impossible!”  
>  **Tim, gently lifting a swooning Jason in a tender princess-carry:** *Flies to safety, rescued princess in hand*  
>  **Damian:** “...Huh”


	4. Chapter 4

Tim suppresses the urge to glance over his shoulder as he moves down the hall. He already knows what he’d see. Damian’s been following him around for the last day and a half. It’s both creepy and mildly worrying.

What the heck has the brat up in arms this time, though? It’s been months since the last serious attack from that quarter. He’d thought they were past Damian’s initial jealousy and the rivalry instigated by the decade the poor kid spent being raised by an actual immortal terrorist instead of a caring family.

Maybe it isn’t something specific to Tim. He sits down at the kitchen table, where Alfred immediately places a loaded plate in front of him. “Here you are, Master Tim. Thank you for staying the night here after last night’s late patrol. It does my heart good to know you’re all safe under the same roof.”

“Of course, Alfred,” Tim says with a small smile. “I think we were all too tired to do much else after tracking down all the leads we got from Jason’s would-be kidnappers the other day.”

It was exhausting, but worth it to bring down those gangs. A lot of vulnerable people will be safe from them now, not to mention Jason. Those guys really seemed to have it in for Red Hood. Tim’s more than happy to have them off the street.

“Hey now,” Jason’s deep, pleasant voice says from the doorway. He slinks in, jaw cracking with a wide yawn. “I’ll have you know I did all of that intentionally.”

Tim snickers. “What, you walked into a known trap, let yourself be drugged, and transported to an unknown location, all on the off chance your kidnappers would be carrying briefcases serendipitously filled with evidence we could then use to bring down two gangs and their whole network of suppliers?”

Jason steals his coffee and takes a deep swig, staring him right in the eye the entire time. “Yep,” he deadpans, then ruins the effect by gagging. “Jesus, what the hell _is_ this shit? Did you just dip your mug straight into Gotham Bay or something?”

“If Gotham Bay tasted like that I would go swimming a lot more.” Tim rolls his eyes. “It’s just coffee.”

“That explains it.” Jason shudders.

“Master Jason,” Alfred murmurs, setting a place for him across from Tim.

Jason flops down at his spot and grabs his own mug, sipping gratefully. “Thanks, Alfie. Your tea makes everything better.”

Tim rolls his eyes. Inhaling the delicious aromas of his own breakfast, he relaxes with a smile of pleasure. It’s great to be able to just crash at the Manor once in a while after a long patrol. Well, okay, it’s possible it’s more like once or twice a week lately.

Alfred’s cooking is a powerful motivator. Tim lifts a forkful of eggs, then frowns, spotting a flicker of movement in the reflection on the silver surface of the utensil.

Damian.

As Alfred moves back to his kitchen, stoic as always yet somehow visibly delighted to have so many members of his family present, Tim turns to Jason. His eyes narrow as he watches the other man eating his own breakfast with evident relish. There’s no sign he’s aware of the little gremlin currently skulking along the ceiling in the hallway, obviously watching them.

So creepy.

Then Jason’s teal eyes snap to his, focused and intense. His gaze cuts to the hall and back, and his eyebrows twitch in a subtle shrug.

Well, Tim can work with that. “Join forces?” he mouths, careful to turn his face so Damian won’t be able to read his lips. At least if he and Jason are watching each other’s backs, they’ll be able to counter any sneak attacks. Theoretically. He is not looking forward to having to sleep in shifts if it comes to that. Of course, he’s looking forward to waking up at four in the morning on the business end of a kris even less.

“Fuck yeah,” Jason mouths back, looking intensely relieved. “Your place.”

Red Robin’s Nest is practically a fortress, impenetrable short of a concerted attack by an entire team of metas. Even then, he has some contingencies in place. Tim nods, biting back a smile. This is going to be interesting.

They take their leave of Alfred, gratefully accepting a basket of his wonderful cooking to take with them. Tim drives Redbird in its boring civilian guise. Jason does not approve of the arrangement, bitching as he folds his tall body into the passenger seat. “Really? You’re not even gonna let me drive?”

“My car, my rules.” Tim only regrets it a little when Jason digs into the basket of Alfred-goodies and bites vindictively into a blueberry scone, hoarding the basket on his lap and refusing to share.

Neither of them mentions Damian.

Jason looks amused and completely unsurprised when Tim holds up a hand to stop him from talking once they get to the Nest. He quickly runs all the checks he always does after spending time with the other Bats, and ends up disabling no fewer than three trackers and two audio transmitters on each of them.

“I’m not even sure how many of those were Damian’s and how many belonged to Bruce,” he admits, his lips curling in a reluctant smile.

“Damn, it’s weird that we’re so used to the spying, it isn’t even a thing anymore,” Jason agrees. He walks over to Tim’s couch and flops down with a loud sigh, sprawling comfortably with his arms draped across the back of the couch. “So, do _you_ have any idea why the hell the little monster is stalking _both_ of us now?”

Tim frowns. That sounded almost like… “Has he been acting like this for a while with you?” That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing he’d miss, normally. Then again, he hasn’t been spending that much time around the Manor lately, between work, patrol, and school. A few mornings a week probably isn’t enough to get a real idea of Damian’s day-to-day stalking activities.

Jason yawns again. It’s a little strange having him here in his living room, soft from sleep and still wearing his sweats and an old t-shirt he probably wore to bed last night. He’s been over here plenty of times before, but it’s usually in his Red Hood guise. His hair is a tumbled, wavy mess. It looks really soft.

Tim swallows, looking away.

“He’s been acting strange for about a week now. Well, stranger than usual.” Jason shrugs, looking conflicted. “Following me around, staring at me—I thought he was gonna, like, stab me or something and get it over with, right?”

Nodding, Tim moves to the couch and sits down beside Jason, perching in the tiny corner the other man isn’t already occupying in his languid sprawl. “Yeah, that seems reasonable. Damian usually gets impatient and attacks fairly quickly once he’s decided on a target. While he’s fully capable of long-term planning, his skill level is such that he generally manages to succeed in his aims even without a detailed plan and contingencies so he tends not to bother.”

Jason blinks, turning toward him as though reassessing him. “You’ve thought a lot about this.”

“Yep.” It would be hard not to, considering the amount of time Damian spent attacking him during those hellacious first few months after he showed up. “I figure it’s good to know his weaknesses, just in case. I don’t feel like getting stabbed or having my line cut again.”

“Okay, that’s fucked up.” Jason sighs, scrubbing at his face as he grimaces. “Still not as bad as the shit I did to you, before.”

Tim bites his lip, wincing. “Yeah, that sucked pretty bad, too. It was a lot easier to forgive you once I took into account the fact that you were basically brainwashed while brain-damaged and traumatized, not to mention under the influence of a really screwed up substance known to cause violent outbursts and psychopathic tendencies.”

Jason flinches, arms dropping off the back of the couch. He crosses them and shrinks into himself, his shoulders curving forward and his knees drawing together slightly, all his earlier apparent relaxation gone. “I’m sorry, Baby Bird.” He shakes his head, frowning. “Look, maybe me coming here wasn’t such a great idea—”

Shit.

“Wait,” Tim blurts out, dropping a hand on his knee to stop him from fleeing. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. I just meant, what happened before wasn’t really your fault. You were going through a horrible time and some of that spilled over onto me. It sucked, yeah, but I’m mostly just really glad we both got through it.” He gently squeezes Jason’s knee, hoping his words have the right effect.

Some of the tension slides out of Jason’s frame and he sighs softly. When he looks up, there’s a tentative, vulnerable expression on his handsome face. “You’re too fuckin’ nice, Tim. Makes me worry someone’s gonna take advantage.”

_I wish you would._

The thought rises unbidden in Tim’s mind and he blushes, his gaze dropping involuntarily to Jason’s plush lips. Ever since he noticed Red Hood’s kill count drop to zero and made the decision to start including him, he’s had to fight down the desire to reach out and touch him.

It’s like there’s a kind of gravity pulling him in. He constantly has to fight the urge to lean into Red Hood’s side when they’re both tired after patrol, rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder when he’s clearly upset about something Bruce said or did, or just run his fingers through that curly black hair to see if it’s truly as soft as it looks.

Tim clears his throat, squeezing Jason’s knee against before straightening and removing his hand. It feels cold once he takes it away. “Anyway, yeah. It was easy to forgive you, since it wasn’t really your fault in the first place.” He shrugs. “With Damian, it’s a little different because he’s been manipulated and trained to be aggressive and callous since he was a toddler. I try to keep that in mind, but it’s going to be a lot harder to be mature about this if he starts poking holes in me with sharp objects again.”

He makes a face and sighs. Drawing his knees onto the couch and wrapping his arms around them, he curls up facing Jason, who’s staring at him. “Thoughts?”

Jason blinks, then blushes faintly. “Uh, I did ask Dickie about it, before. When it was just me the kid was creeping on. He thought maybe it was the brat’s way of trying to make friends.” He makes a face.

Snorting, Tim shakes his head. “I think we can dismiss that theory, since I’m involved now. No way Damian would ever want to be friends with me.”

Jason sits up and reaches across the coffee table to tug the basket of Alfred-goodies closer. “Well, whatever the fuck the little gremlin has in mind, the two of us working together have a hell of a lot better chance countering it than either of us on our own.”

“That’s true.” Tim sits up again, too. “Wanna make detailed counterattack plans while watching something stupid on Netflix and binging on Alfred-cooking?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jason says, grinning and digging into the basket. “I think they’ve got a few Jane Austen movies on there right now—”

“Seriously? I was thinking more Star Trek—”

“I’m trying to teach you to appreciate _literature,_ you uncultured swine.”

“I appreciate it! I mean, from afar. Like a lovely, distant star I never want to actually be in close proximity to because it would be a horrible experience from which I’d never recover. Ow!” Tim bats at Jason’s arm, snickering, as the other man pokes him in the ribs again.

“Take it back! Just for that, we’re going to watch the entire six hour miniseries.”

“My house, my ru—”

“If you say your house, your rules, I’m leavin’ you to the Bat brat’s not-so-tender mercies.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?” Tim glances up at Jason shyly from under his lashes, and is rewarded by an unspeakably tender look as Jason smiles down at him.

“Naw. But I’d probably tickle the hell out of you and eat all the blueberry scones.”

“Truly, you are a monster,” Tim intones solemnly, then cackles as he snags a scone and retreats to the corner of the couch before Jason can get it from him.

The tickle fight that follows is both enthusiastic and destructive. The scone is obliterated when Jason tries to pin Tim down and ends up flipped and pinned on the couch for his troubles.

Tim hovers over Jason’s thick, strong body, pinning his wrists above his head and grinning down at him, both of their chests heaving as they catch their breath. The smile slowly fades when he sees Jason’s eyes, darker than usual and fixed on his mouth.

Jason catches him looking and flushes bright red. He looks away, the corners of his mouth tilting down, and tugs at his hands unhappily. He shifts his hips, trying to pull away, and sounds distressed when he speaks. “I—fuck. Lemme go.”

Tim immediately releases Jason’s hands and sits back, letting him sit up. “Jay? What’s wrong?”

Jason won’t meet his eyes. He snags a pillow, shoves it into his lap, then buries his blushing face in his hands. “Leave me alone.” His voice is muffled, but it sounds embarrassed.

That pillow is what clues Tim in. An inkling as to what Jason’s problem might be slowly dawns on him, and his eyes widen. Apparently, Jason found their little impromptu wrestling match just as stimulating as he did.

Maybe his annoying attraction isn’t so one-sided as he thought. The burgeoning happiness that wells up at the thought subsides slightly as he takes in Jason’s subdued posture and how unhappy he looks right now.

“Jason?” Tim edges closer, trying to see his face, then drops to his knees on the floor in front of the couch so he can peek up at him. He carefully covers Jason’s hand in his and tries to tug it away from his face. “Hey, talk to me. Are you okay?”

“‘M fine,” Jason says, clearly lying.

Tim smiles, trying not to laugh. “Oh, yeah, that’s obviously why you’re trying to hide behind your hands until, what, I forget you’re here?”

Jason gives an unwilling snicker. “Guess it wasn’t my best plan.” He peeks out between two fingers, revealing one gorgeous teal eye and part of a deeply flushed cheek. “This is embarrassing as fuck, by the way.”

Tim manages not to glance down at Jason’s lap. It’s hard. He barely manages to suppress a highly untimely snicker at the very inappropriate thought. The last thing Jason needs right now is to think he’s being laughed at. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason lifts his head, dropping his hands in indignation to glare at Tim. “I don’t think—”

Tim inhales, steels himself, and flicks his eyes down. Jason follows his gaze, right down to Tim’s own tented pants. His eyes widen and fly back up to Tim’s face. “You…?”

“Yep,” Tim says with a helpless smile. Jason still looks uncertain, so he quickly clarifies. “Uh, I’m interested in you. Like, dating you, specifically. If that’s something you’d be down for.”

It’s actually not the most awkward way he’s ever asked someone out—which probably says more about his love life than anything else, at this point.

Jason’s lips part as he stares at him, and that pretty flush on his cheeks deepens. He licks his lips. “Uh, yeah,” he breathes. “That’s… Yeah. I want that. Kinda have for a while now.”

“Me, too,” Tim says, heart racing as little thrills of excitement make his fingertips tingle. He smiles, rising up on his knees and reaching out to cup Jason’s face in his hands. A breath away from kissing him, he pauses. “This okay?”

Jason still looks gobsmacked, but he grins at that. “Oh, yeah.” He fists a hand in Tim’s shirt and pulls him the rest of the way in.

They don’t end up making any plans to counter Damian’s potential stratagems.

That’s okay. They do end up eating the rest of Alfred’s basket of goodies, and both of them turn bright red in embarrassment when they reach the bottom and find that he’s included a small bottle of personal lubricant and a modest package of condoms.

“Oh my god,” Tim says faintly, staring at the offending basket like it’s betrayed his entire childhood. In a way, it has.

“Just don’t think about it,” Jason says firmly, red to the tips of his ears. It’s really cute.

“Distract me?”

“Yeah, okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jason and Tim, quietly eating breakfast at the Manor:** *Notice Damian skittering along the ceiling, glaring at them and hissing like a cockroach* “Holy shit!” *Flee together to Tim’s apartment*  
>  **Damian, calmly lowering himself from the ceiling and smiling diabolically:** “Yes, now I’ve gotten them alone together. Surely their romantic entanglement will now proceed apace!” *Steeples his fingers and cackles like a supervillain*  
>  **Jason and Tim, in Tim’s apartment:** *Engage in tickle-fight, eat Alfred’s food and make out until they find condoms Alfred planted in the basket* “Welp, that’s a boner killer” *Decide to watch six hours of Pride and Prejudice instead*


	5. Chapter 5

Robin flies across the Gotham skyline, shooting his grapnel at the apex of his flight and then arcing forward again. He doesn’t pause for an instant, even when his shoulders ache with protest. There’s no time to spare.

“Black Bat, are you there yet?” Batman’s voice is a rough growl over the comms, but anyone who knows him well can tell he is nearly frantic.

The buildings ahead of Robin are low, with nowhere for his grapnel to attach. He growls in fury as he plummets to the ground, then lands in a rough tumble and rolls to his feet, immediately breaking into a run.

They cannot be too late. They _cannot._

“No,” Black Bat says, and he can hear his father’s heart shatter in response.

“I’m only three blocks away,” Nightwing says, his voice desperate. “Batgirl…”

“Still held up with the fire over on Fifth,” Batgirl responds, sounding unhappy. “I’m sorry, but there were kids trapped in there—”

“Robin?” Batman’s voice sounds flat, as though he’s already given up hope. He must know Robin was even farther away than Nightwing when Oracle’s frantic call for backup came through.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, throat tight. His heart hammers as he forces his body beyond the limits of his endurance. Even as he runs, he knows there is nothing he can do. According to the countdown Oracle so thoughtfully synced to their masks, Red Hood has less than a minute left. As he watches, the blinking red numbers on the HUD continue to tick inexorably down.

There’s a horrible silence over the comms, the only sound light panting as everyone races toward the oncoming tragedy.

 _I wanted to save him,_ Damian thinks, agonized. _I was supposed to save him and pass the test._ He runs. _I don’t even care about the test anymore. I just want my brother to be okay._

Ahead of him, the warehouse comes into sight. Inhabited by a splinter group led by Adair’s younger brother, it passed beneath the Bat’s radar until said splinter group managed to lure Red Hood there less than an hour ago. According to Oracle, they’d set a clever trap for him, baited with the one thing everyone knows Red Hood will always, _always_ go out of his way to stop—human trafficking. Children.

They got him on his weak flank, damn their filthy blackened hearts.

He managed to get a message out, at least. Once Oracle had that, she quickly obtained access to the internal cameras at the warehouse. It did little good, only serving to reveal the countdown and Red Hood, bound and alone in a scene that might have been pulled from one of his own nightmares.

“Where the _hell_ is Red Robin?” Robin snarls, a stab of savage fury giving him the energy to speak again. Drake is supposed to be Todd’s _prince._ How _dare_ he fail him in his hour of need?

Even as the thought passes through his mind, Robin’s fury ebbs and dies. Red Robin isn’t even in Gotham right now. He is with the Titans this weekend. How could he possibly know his destined paramour is in trouble, let alone in dire need of rescue? Robin hasn’t even had a chance to properly develop a plan to induce them to court one another yet, let alone initiated it beyond a few paltry attempts.

They aren’t ready.

But, it seems, they have run out of time. Internally, he rages against the looming future—Todd’s loss will tear the heart from the family, and this time there will be no Drake, waiting in the wings to help heal them. Drake will be too busy himself, mourning the loss of his princess.

It isn’t the thought of failing Grayson’s test that has him gritting his teeth and bearing down harder, trying to make it there in time. It’s the memory of Todd’s pleased grin as he patted Titus on the head, Alfred the cat twining around his ankles. The way he knows the names of the people he helps, and they look upon him with trust and loyalty in their jaded eyes. It’s the way he’s woven himself into Damian’s heart somehow, and he only became aware of it over the past two weeks whilst researching him for the test.

It’s the thought that his _brother_ is about to die.

“Damnation!” Robin curses, his legs pumping. If he could only force himself to run faster he would, even if the effort caused his heart to burst. He’s nowhere near close enough when there’s a loud boom, followed by a rush of terrible heat.

Time has run out.

“Nooo!” The howl goes up from nearby, and he jerks his head to the side to see Nightwing stumble to a halt a few feet away. He is staring, his face twisted in an expression of rage and grief. Robin follows his gaze, unwilling but unable to stop himself from looking.

The warehouse is alight, diabolical flames reaching for the sky.

It’s over.

A dark shape flies by them, barreling straight for the burning warehouse. Nightwing reacts instantly, turning and diving to tackle it to the ground. “Br- Batman, _no!_ You can’t. You’ll just get hurt. We can’t lose you, too!”

Batman turns on him with a savage growl. _“He’s in there!”_ His face is twisted into a rictus of grief.

“No, he’s not.” Oracle’s calm voice over the comms sends them reeling.

“Oracle, _report!”_ Robin hardly recognizes his own voice.

“Head to the east side of the warehouse. You’ll be glad you did.”

They don’t waste any time, Robin taking off immediately while Nightwing and Batman are still untangling themselves and scrambling to their feet. He rushes to the indicated location, peering around the corner only to see—

Silhouetted against a backdrop of flames, Wonder Girl soars, two unconscious thugs dangling from her hands. A faint flicker of movement resolves into Impulse, who deposits another unconscious, drooling thug in the growing pile the two of them appear to be accumulating some distance from the fire.

Superboy hovers behind them. He’s reaching a solicitous hand toward Red Robin, who is slowly limping away from the warehouse. It looks like he might collapse at any moment, but somehow, he continues to move forward.

In his arms, he’s carrying Red Hood.

Robin’s throat tightens and his knees go weak at the sight. The only reason he doesn’t fall is Nightwing, who drops an arm around his shoulders at that moment and begins propelling them both forward. Batman brushes past them, heading straight for the group of heroes.

“Jay,” he croaks, clearly overwrought if he is forgetting such an integral rule intended to preserve all of their secret identities. “Is he—?”

“Alive,” Red Robin whispers in a voice rough from smoke inhalation. “He had a panic attack, but he’s okay.”

A rapid-fire voice to one side interrupts. “Rob, we got all the bad guys—at least I’m _pretty_ sure—no wait, there’s one over—” Impulse flickers, and suddenly he’s clutching a gibbering, struggling thug in his hands. “No worries, I got him. He was trying to get away. Oh, and I found a massive pile of injured bad guys around the back. I’m pretty sure Red Hood must’ve beat them up before their buddies got him—he doesn’t go down easy, does he? I think I saw bone on a couple of them. Anyway, I tied them up and dragged them to safety. I’m pretty sure this guy is the last—whattaya think, SB?”

Superboy scans their surroundings, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t see any other suspicious-looking people in the area. Uh, there are a _lot_ of rats around here. They’re like, really big. Wow, is that normal for Gotham?”

His words serve as a reminder that there’s a reason he isn’t particularly familiar with Gotham. Batman has a long-standing rule about metas. Namely, they aren’t allowed.

Robin turns to Batman with a furrowed brow, half-expecting him to demand the Titans depart immediately. Instead, he sees his father continue striding forward until he walks right into Red Robin and Red Hood, at which point he carefully wraps both of them in a secure embrace. “I thought I lost you, again,” he murmurs, his voice choked. “Jaylad, I thought—”

Wonder Girl clears her throat, drawing the attention of her team. “Perhaps we should transport these criminals elsewhere—also, the fire may spread, at this rate. How about we leave the criminals on the roof of the police station? Then maybe we can see about putting out this fire before it causes harm to others.” She smiles at Red Robin when he glances at her around Batman’s shoulder, looking torn. “Of course, you should stay here and see to Red Hood.”

Superboy grins. “Yeah! I mean, I didn’t realize you guys were that close, but if you’re spying on him so intensely that you realized literally the _moment_ he got kidnapped, well, obviously it’s serious. I mean, you only spy that intensely on people you lo—mmmph!” He breaks off into confused mumbles, trying to peel Impulse’s hand off his mouth to no avail.

Impulse gives them a wide grin. “Okay this was fun but we’ve gotta go now! Good luck with all your Bat stuff—and don’t worry about the fire or the baddies. We’ve got this. And we’ll get out of your hair once we clean up here. This seems like family business. C’mon, Titans!” He meets Red Robin’s gaze and winks. “Good luck, Rob!”

“Thanks, guys,” Red Robin manages, a moment before Batman protectively drapes his cape over both young men in his arms.

“Okay, everyone, let’s move away from the highly unstable building that just exploded,” Nightwing says, tentatively reaching out to place a gentle hand on Batman’s shoulder. Robin moves to his father’s other side. Between the two of them, they manage to coax him to let go of Red Robin and Red Hood long enough to assist them farther away from the fire, allowing the Titans to handle the scene for now.

“Geez, B,” Red Hood says, looking both awkward and highly pleased as his father draws him close for another hug the moment they stop moving. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“I never want to lose you again,” Batman whispers, face buried in Red Hood’s hair. “Why aren’t you wearing your helmet? It could have given you some protection during the—” He breaks off, clearly unable to finish.

Red Hood scowls. “Rumor was, the bastards were holding some kids there. I took off the helmet so I wouldn’t scare ‘em. Turned out, there weren’t any kids at all. Thank fuck. I mean, I’d rather walk into a trap a hundred times than have any kid ever livin’ that kind of hell.”

Red Robin makes a soft, hurt-sounding noise, squeezing Red Hood tighter in his arms.

Robin’s estimation of Red Robin’s strength increases one reluctant notch. Red Hood is not a small man, and Red Robin has been holding him in a princess-carry for no less than ten minutes at this point.

Pennyworth arrives a moment later, driving the van equipped with medical equipment for use in just such situations as these. Oracle must have summoned him, no doubt. Batman releases a shuddering sigh, finally lifting his head and stepping back to allow him room to work.

Pennyworth rapidly checks Red Hood, takes one look at Red Robin, and orders him into the van as well. “Smoke inhalation is not to be taken lightly, my dear boy. Come along, now.”

Red Robin obediently climbs into the van. When Red Hood reaches for him, drawing him close, he looks suddenly far more pleased with his situation.

As the van pulls away, headed to the Bat Cave, Batman breathes in deeply, slowly pulling himself together and restoring his tattered composure. “Nightwing. Check with Oracle—see if Batgirl needs backup to deal with the fire on Fifth.”

Oracle answers without waiting to be asked. “I sent Black Bat there once we saw the situation here was well in hand, but they could use some help.”

Nightwing nods and then melts into the night. Batman turns his attention to Robin. He breathes deeply once more, in and out. Then, he smiles. It’s just a twitch of his lips, but for him, it’s practically a grin. “Robin. You were running flat-out to try to save him.”

“He’s my brother,” Robin replies, without even thinking about it.

The smile twitches, growing slightly. Batman looks pleased. “I think we’ve had enough for tonight. Did you know Red Hood and I used to stop for ice cream at least once a week? There was a place over on Lincoln. I… wonder if it’s still there.”

He looks wistful. Robin hesitates, unsure, then plows ahead. If his father is reaching out a hand, the only possible option is to extend his own in return. “Perhaps we should go check.”

This time, the smile is so wide as to be unmistakable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Robin, snarling in fury:** “Damn your eyes, Red Robin, why are you not HERE rescuing your princess in his hour of need—”  
>  **Red Robin, emerging from exploding warehouse carrying a shaken Red Hood, backlit by the flames:** “Yo”  
>  **Robin, stumbling to a halt:** “Ah. Well, that’s… fine then, I suppose”  
>  **Batman, finally breaking through emotional constipation and experiencing a cleansing torrent of familial love:** “...” *Hugs sons, takes Robin out for ice cream. Still fails to properly articulate his feelings in words, but hey, baby steps*  
>  **Robin, celebrating:** “Huzzah! Progress! Also, ice cream!”


	6. Chapter 6

Alfred finishes bandaging the last of Jason’s minor wounds, all incurred during the brief but vicious fight with those shitstains who managed to trick him. The old man pauses afterward, gazing down at him and resting a warm, gentle hand on his forehead for a brief moment.

“Rest now, Master Jason. I will return to check on you later.” A single speaking eyebrow is all he needs to communicate that he expects Jason to stay in the medbay until he gets back, or risk facing Alfred’s wrath.

“Sounds good, Alfie.” Jason heaves a shuddering sigh, sinking back on the med cot and feeling every inch of his exhausted, sore body. It’s been a hell of a night.

“Hey there,” Tim whispers, slipping out of his own med cot to pad over to Jason’s. His bare feet must be freezing on the rough stone floor.

“Get up here,” Jason says roughly. He reaches out to tug the other man onto his cot beside him. It’s a tight squeeze, but they’re friendly enough with each other these days to make it work.

Remembering their heated makeout session the other night, he flushes. He still hasn’t told Tim that was his first kiss. Then again, he was so damn awkward the whole time, Tim probably managed to figure that out.

Whatever. It’s not like he ever had much time for romance, between dying as an inexperienced, shy teenager and coming back as a raging, homicidal bastard. Talia made a move once a few years back, but he told her frankly it would weird him the fuck out to bone someone who used to screw his father-figure. His life is already fucked up enough—no need to make it even worse.

So, those gentle kisses the other night, igniting a slow, molten heat low in his belly and an embarrassing tightness in his pants, were his first experience with physical intimacy.

He really fucking liked it.

Jason’s heart flutters as Tim cuddles right up to him, placing a hand palm-down on his chest. The heat of it seems to sear right through his thin shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there faster. I came as soon as the monitor picked up on your distress, but…” Tim breaks off, biting his lip and hiding his face in Jason’s shoulder.

Jason snorts. “Do I even wanna know what monitor you’re talking about?”

Tim shrugs, looking guilty. “Probably not? I’m sorry—I just like to keep track of people I care about.”

Well, at least he’s admitting he has a problem. Also, it’s hard to be mad at someone who just princess-carried Jason from his fiery doom. He smiles, lifting a bandaged hand to run his fingers through the loose waves of Tim’s hair. “It’s fine. But from now on, whatever you have on me, I get on you. Deal?”

“Oh,” Tim breathes, eyes wide. It’s like he never expected anyone to reciprocate the worry and protectiveness he clearly feels towards the people he cares about. He looks up with a shy smile. “Okay.”

He’s so fucking cute. Jason really wants to kiss him right now. He’s been wanting to ever since the moment he showed up, just as the fucking bomb was ticking down the final seconds. When the wall crashed in, he’d been confused for a second, thinking the bomb had somehow gone off early. Then he looked up and saw Superboy dropping Red Robin to land at his side.

Then he saw a weird blur, felt a brushing sensation, and suddenly his hands and legs were free, the bindings cut and piled neatly nearby. He didn’t have any time to think after that as Red Robin scooped him up in his arms and took off running, both his meta friends grabbing his elbows to carry them both out of the warehouse before the blast.

He doesn’t remember the next few minutes too clearly—just a faint recollection of soothing words in his ear, Red Robin’s soft, reassuring voice helping him breathe past the panicked tightness in his chest.

A surge of tenderness wells up within him, bringing with it a sweet ache in his core. He can’t help himself, and wouldn’t if he could. Bending his head, Jason presses a soft, searching kiss to Tim’s parted lips.

Tim moans faintly as he returns the kiss, his hands trailing up to Jason’s shoulders and grasping like he just wants to hold on, to know he’s there. He pulls back only far enough to whisper, “I’m so glad you’re okay,” before reclaiming Jason’s lips.

Jason whimpers, then groans, wanting to pull Tim on top of himself to explore a little more thoroughly. That might not be the best idea, though—the others are bound to get back to the Cave sooner or later, and the last thing they need is for everyone to find out they’re dating by walking in on them half-naked and writhing on the med cot together.

He snickers. The looks on their faces _would_ be hilarious.

Tim smiles in response to his laughter, his lips still moving against Jason’s. “What?”

“Just imagining Dickhead and the others walking in on us like this.”

“Oh god,” Tim says, pulling back slightly. He looks almost comically disconcerted. “Yeah, that would be awkward. Maybe we should—” He starts to pull away, probably intending to go back to his own med cot. Yeah, no. That isn’t happening.

Jason leans forward to kiss him again. “Stay. Please?” He doesn’t mean for his hoarse voice to break slightly on the ‘please,’ but it has the intended effect. Tim immediately curls close to him again, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, and his lips, and stroking his hair and side comfortingly. Jason gets a hand on the side of Tim’s face after a minute and holds him tenderly in place for a long, thorough, satisfying kiss that sends waves of heat through him and leaves them both breathless.

Some time later, they’re completely absorbed in each other when a voice hisses from right beside the med cot. “Yeeessss…”

Both of them jump, separating slightly. “What the _fuck?”_ Jason grabs the nearest potential weapons—a water bottle and a spare pillow, as it turns out. Tim twists and moves his body to hover protectively over Jason, apparently completely on instinct. That’s… kind of hot.

They turn to stare at the source of the creepy utterance. Damian is standing right there, his mask off. He’s grinning fiendishly. “My great plan has finally achieved fruition!”

“Oh god, what did you do? Did you poison us?” Tim demands hysterically, not relaxing his defensive stance.

“How could he have poisoned us?” Jason frowns. “We didn’t eat or drink anything, and I doubt he would’ve been brave and dumb enough to put contact poisons on any of the med supplies. I mean, that would risk hurting Alfred, too, and I’m pretty sure the brat doesn’t have any beef with him.”

Tim’s eyes go wide and he glares at Damian, his expression going slightly manic as he replies. “Well, we were kissing. Maybe he got hold of some of the compounds Poison Ivy uses to kill with a kiss—”

“Wait, who’s been poisoned?” Nightwing jogs over, peeling off his mask. He’s a bit singed, but apparently none the worse for his extended patrol.

Damian rolls his eyes, huffing and crossing his arms. “No one, Grayson! That was merely Drake’s ignorant supposition. No, the truth is I have finally succeeded in besting the test you set for me!”

“Test?” Dick says faintly, as Tim and Jason eye each other and shrug. As long as they’re not actively dying of poison, Jason really doesn’t have the energy to give a shit right now. He doubts Tim does either.

Nodding eagerly, Damian says, “Yes! The challenge to solve the puzzle of what lesson all of those infernal fairytales to which you subjected me were intended to impart. I quickly realized you meant for me to connect the parallels between the stories, and our own family history. It did not take me long to recognize that Todd is the Disney princess—his tendency to break into song, fight evil villains, and attract animals to his side were all clear indicators.”

Jason chokes. What the fuck? Tim cackles loudly, then attempts to muffle his laughter with his hands at Dick’s warning look. After a moment, he buries his face in Jason’s chest, apparently unable to keep it in.

Dick is blinking slightly, with the same expression on his face he gets immediately after being sucker-punched. “Oh? Ah… Good job, Dami. Tell me more about the… test.” He sounds just as baffled as the rest of them.

Straightening to his full height and puffing out his chest, the kid nods importantly and then continues. “Of course, I saw that like many of the fairytales, our princess had been cruelly misused and cursed so as to prevent our kingdom—er, family—from being whole. Clearly, this was the situation I was meant to solve, using the lessons imparted by the cultural indoctrination materials—er, fairy tales. The books and movies you showed me.”

Jason’s mouth is hanging open. He blinks, then swallows. This probably isn’t a question he wants an answer to, but… “Uh, so how’d that work out for you?”

Damian beams magnanimously down at him. “I identified your prince and arranged for him to conduct a successful courtship! You have now kissed, and appear to have come to satisfactory terms with one another. No doubt, tonight’s events in addition to the circumstances of your new romantic relationship will result in your coming to visit the Manor far more frequently. Your relationship with Father will slowly mend, and the curse upon our family shall be lifted at long last.”

Holy shit.

“Wow,” Tim says, finally lifting his head from Jason’s chest. His face is red from laughing and he’s grinning, his eyes wet. “That’s… kind of awesome, actually.”

Dick just stares, mouth agape, looking like he has no idea where to even start unpacking any of what Damian just said.

Jason frowns. “Wait, how the fuck did you _encourage our courtship_ or whatever?” That sounds creepy as hell, even for the brat.

Damian shrugs. “I merely allowed you both to notice me watching you several times, encouraging you to seek each other out as allies. Your natural propensity toward one another did the rest. Admittedly, I had not realized how successful my efforts were until just now when I happened upon your consummation attempt. I expected to have to do far more prior to you achieving this stage.”

“Jesus,” Jason whispers, his lips curling in an unwilling smile. An unaccustomed feeling of fondness for the little brat wells up and he shakes his head, grinning. Damian’s unique, that’s for damn sure. “That’s… huh. Uh, good job, I guess.”

“I thought he had a crush on you,” Dick says faintly, still staring into space, looking vaguely traumatized. “All this time…”

“Wait, what?” Jason makes a face. “Gross.” That would’ve been terrifying. He’d actually rather Damian be trying to kill him than have a baby crush on him—good god. Hopefully the brat doesn’t stab Dickie now just for suggesting it.

Fortunately, he misunderstands. “Of course Drake had a crush on Todd!” Damian snorts. “The prince needs to be attracted to the princess in order to woo them appropriately.”

Jason looks from Tim to Dick and back again, just checking to make sure they’re seeing the same thing he is. Damian’s acting like… well, like a _kid._ It’s cute. Dick is wearing a sappy, delighted grin. Even Tim looks touched.

“You did great, Little D,” Dick says warmly. “You solved it even faster than I expected!” Clearly, he’s decided to encourage the kid’s interest in helping out the family, however wildly misguided his methods.

Damian puffs up with pride, looking ridiculously young, and Dick sends Jason a pleading look. He’s clearly begging him not to disillusion the kid after he clearly worked so hard on the bizarre quest Dick apparently set for him by accident.

“Thanks, kid,” Jason says gruffly, feeling absurdly fond when the brat visibly preens at the praise. He frowns, imagining future interference and stalking. Yeah, best not encourage that. “But stay the fuck outta our love lives from now on.”

“Easily, Todd. I have no desire to observe the further consummation of your relationship. Happily, according to all reliable sources, you are now destined to embark upon a ‘happily-ever-after.’ You should, in theory, cease to prove such an annoyance in the future now that you are suitably distracted by your paramour.” Damian smiles fiendishly. It’s entirely possible that’s just the way his face works.

“What the fuck.”

“Just go with it, Jay. He’s smiling—it isn’t worth disillusioning him.” Tim grins at him, his eyes dancing.

“Fair enough.” Jason narrows his eyes, wishing they didn’t have an audience. Actually, he might know a decent way to get rid of the bystanders. He smirks wickedly. “Wanna kiss again?”

Fortunately, Tim catches on quickly. “Heck yeah, I do!” He’s laughing softly as he leans in for a kiss, which Jason returns with enthusiasm and probably way more loud smacking noises than are strictly necessary.

“Gah! Quickly, Grayson, we must flee the incipient consummation!” Damian grabs a blushing, embarrassed Dick’s hand and begins dragging him away.

 _“What.”_ The deep, gravelly voice seems to come out of nowhere. Oh, fuck this. The last thing Jason needs is to deal with B right now. They’re good—better than before, definitely, but he needs a few hours before confronting whatever emotional heart to heart the two of them are clearly headed for after all this.

“Oh, hey Batman,” Dick says, giving him a little wave as he’s dragged bodily past by the tiny but determined boy who has his hand in a death grip.

“B.” Tim pulls back for a moment to nod at Batman before Jason drags him back in, pressing their lips together and wondering how long it will take to get rid of all their unwanted visitors.

“Father.” Damian nods at Batman, then continues his work of dragging Dick away from the unfolding scene.

“Mmmph! Ahhh… mmm- mmmph…” Jason might be overdoing the kissing sounds. He doesn’t give a fuck—he can practically _feel_ the discomfort and awkwardness radiating off of B right now. Why the hell isn’t he leaving yet?

“Oh my god, I can’t believe they’re still kissing in front of _Batman.”_ Dick sounds both awed and horrified. Their escape must have stalled. They’re probably just waiting around to see Batman’s reaction.

“True love’s kiss is truly inspirational,” Damian says, seemingly grudgingly impressed.

“Maybe they just haven’t noticed he’s there.”

“Impossible! His teeth are grinding audibly. Besides, Drake greeted him a moment ago.”

“I’m surprised you can hear _anything_ over the sound of Red Hood and Red Robin making out.” Dick snickers.

A faint sound, as of teeth grinding together, grows slightly louder.

Dick clears his throat. “C’mon, Dami, let’s give them some privacy. You too, big guy. Plenty of time to lecture them later.” He tugs at Batman, who refuses to be budged. Tilting his head, Dick gives the scowling man a cajoling smile. “If we go back to the Bat Computer now, you’ll have more time to update the slideshow of doom to terrorize them with later.”

Batman blinks, clearly considering this idea. “Hn,” he says, his expression lightening considerably. “Yes, clearly it needs to be updated if Red Hood and Red Robin are now engaging in a romantic relationship. There are numerous potential pitfalls of such a liaison. We need to make sure they’re being safe.”

Somehow, he manages to make it sound like a threat.

Jason shivers, then shrugs. Whatever. He and Tim are tough and smart. They’ll be able to figure out how to avoid it. Hell, maybe they’ll recruit Damian to help. The kid’s apparently on their side, after all. He wouldn’t want their new romantic relationship to be ruined because Bruce decided to traumatize them with his nightmarish facts of life slideshow. Also, Jason’s pretty sure Damian is old enough now to get the slideshow treatment himself by now. He’ll probably fight like hell once his self-preservation instincts kick in.

Finally alone, he tugs Tim closer and wraps himself around him with a pleased sigh.

Disney princess. Pfft.

His exhausted body starts to relax, sleep pulling at his tired mind as he lies there in the warmth and comfort of Tim’s arms. It’s awesome. Although… He blinks, focusing with some difficulty on Tim’s face. “Hey, you’re staying down here with me tonight, right?” This won’t be nearly so comfy if Tim hightails it upstairs to sleep in his admittedly much more comfortable bed.

Tim smiles, turning to press a kiss to Jason’s shoulder. “Do you want me to?”

Jason nods.

“As you wish.” Tim snickers, the little shit.

Jason rolls his eyes. Yeah, he’s definitely going to be getting princess jokes for the rest of his natural life. He smiles anyway. There’s a soft look in Tim’s eyes as he looks at him, and that’s worth a hell of a lot more than enduring a little gentle teasing.

As they nestle closer and fall silent, Tim’s breathing going deep and steady, Jason can’t help but feel like this is better than a happily ever after. His life’s always been something of a fucked up mess, but right now…

It’s perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jason, covered in bandages and recovering on med cot in the Cave:** “...”  
>  **Tim, appearing out of nowhere to gently stroke his hair out of his eyes:** “Are you okay? Here, let me give you some water—oof!” *Blinks in surprise as Jason scoops him into med cot with him and curls around him like a teddy bear* “Well I guess this works”  
>  **Damian, rising slowly out from under the cot like a horror movie:** “Yeeeessssss! Now kiss!” *Mashes their faces together*  
>  **Jason and Tim, involuntarily kissing:** “Mmmph! Wtf” *Start to turn to Damian to demand explanation, then get distracted making out*  
>  **Dick, walking in to check on everyone:** “Hey guys how are you—OH MY GOD WHAT” *Immediately covers Damian’s eyes with one hand. After a moment’s thought, covers own eyes with other hand*  
>  **Bruce, walking in to check on everyone:** *Takes one look at them and then does a walking u-turn right back out of the Cave* “Nope”  
>  **Jason and Tim, still vigorously making out:** “Damn this is awesome”   
> *  
> Thank you so much to everyone who has given kudos or commented, and big thanks to the wonderful mods at Jaytim Week for all their work running this event! Also, thanks to the [Capes & Coffee Tim Drake discord server](https://discord.gg/bGhpCDn) for the betas while I was writing this.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, and thanks for reading!


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